


too much blood on the dance floor

by sassastrophe (regulardudetier)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Dinner Party, Happy birthday Louis hahahahaha, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 11:26:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regulardudetier/pseuds/sassastrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>happy birthday louis sorry you can't get your shit together and everyone leaves you</p>
            </blockquote>





	too much blood on the dance floor

Louis was used to the parties and the planning and the hustle and bustle of the holidays. He was used to his birthday being overshadowed by Christmas for the years up until now, considering it was his twentieth birthday. He was no longer a teen in any sort of respect, he was an adult. So it was just a little frustrating that even on such a big birthday, he was still sat in the corner of the house surrounded by a bunch of people he'd never met. He was dressed up quite nicely, sporting an unbuttoned grey suit. He'd rolled up the pants into cuffs like he normally did and had tugged on a pair of his white toms, even managed to spray a bit of cologne and quiff up his hair to make it somewhat presentable. He knew there wouldn't be many people his age at the party, but if it made his mum happy, well. 

He nursed a healthy flute of champagne and only stood up every so often to say 'hello' or 'merry christmas' to someone who went up to him. None of these people knew it was his birthday, so he didn't bother correcting them. He was selfish, yea, but he wouldn't push it upon people he didn't know. He left taking the piss out of his friends on twitter when they seemingly happened to forget to wish him a happy birthday exactly at midnight or something. Zayn, he knew, would do it on purpose more often than not. He'd wait until Louis was calling him up and screaming at him before he'd wish him a well birthday. The others just simply let it escape them at times.

 Checking his (brand new) watch, he noticed that there was still an hour left until dinner was served. An hour left until dinner served, at least two hours or so to eat dinner, maybe two more hours for dessert and coffee, and then an hour after that would put them exactly at midnight for gift giving. One hour of that, and everyone would be out of his house and he could sleep comfortably in whatever new pajamas he received or anything of the sort. For now, though. For now he'd take solace in getting splendidly drunk off of wine and champagne; it made talking to people a hell of a lot easier.

As he made his way into the bar area, something interesting and out of place caught his eye. Not something, rather, but someone. A young someone, from the looks of it. This someone had chocolatey brown curls, oddly pink lips, and green eyes that sort of. Well. Stared at Louis. And Louis was staring back. He was leaning against the counter staring at a stranger, and the stranger was content in what could have been considered an intense staring contest. They were a room apart, with Louis in the bar and the stranger in the study next to the piano,  _his_  piano, but he felt as though they were right next to each other. It was weird.

After a minute, the stranger's lips quirked upwards into a safe smirk, and Louis felt his heart skip a beat. "Lou, babe, can you get the good cabernet out of the cooler for me? Should be unopened." His mum's voice knocked him out of the spell and he gave her a quick nod, bending down to his knees to grab the bottle of wine out of the mini fridge. She kissed him on the cheek for thanks and walked back to the kitchen, and Louis' eyes searched once more for those of green. 

But the mysterious stranger was no longer sitting in the comfortable chair and Louis was disappointed. He felt this was reason enough to pour himself another glass of champagne and he did so, only setting it down before feeling two arms snake around his waist and pull him back. "Happy fucking birthday, Lou!" 

"Zayn!" he barked, turning around into the hold and laughing at his friend, pulling him in for a hug. "Shit, I didn't think you'd make it! Too many of my mum's pretentious asshole friends here, can't breathe over the smell of perfume. Glad to have a bit of normalcy in the house, honestly." Zayn smiled, pulling Louis in one more time for an intimate embrace and they just sort of stood there, leaning against the granite countertop in the seemingly empty bar area with the rest of the house buzzing.

It was a weird thing, their friendship. He'd met Zayn when he was about fifteen, picked him off of a guy twice his size and they both ran screaming and laughing all the way back to Louis' house. Out of breath, the two introduced themselves to each other and Zayn, always ever so forward, outwardly exclaimed that Louis was his new best friend. And that's the way things had been for the past five years. Even when Louis moved out of Doncaster for uni, Zayn had managed to find a way to visit him every now and then. Zayn wasn't in school, had gone off on his own to 'find himself' or some shit. He made a name for himself in the somewhat small art district of Doncaster and it was enough to help him get by. He also worked at a book store on the side and lived in a pretty nice flat with one of their newer friends, Liam. 

Zayn and Louis had grown extremely close in the five years of being friends. They'd even experienced the awkward 'do you have a crush on me?' phase and attempted (major emphasis on attempted) to work things out. That was around the age of seventeen, and Louis had left a scared Zayn fucked out and alone on his bedroom floor because he wasn't sure if he could handle being anything more than best friends with the guy. It was an awkward time that they managed to get past, but Louis always felt like shit for it. Soon after that, Zayn had met Liam at a museum and they hit it off pretty well, introduced Louis to him and the three of them became somewhat close. Louis was surprised Liam wasn't at Zayn's side tonight, to be honest.

"So, please tell me you've got some pretty new toys to play with, I'm so bored and this party is somewhat of a bust." Zayn reached around Louis and grabbed for the flute of champagne, downing it in one impressive go. "Or maybe we can go outside and freeze our arses off and see who notices first? Seriously, Lou. Since when was your mum friends with a bunch of wasps?"

He knew Zayn meant well, but it was somewhat true. Jay had become a socialite ever since Louis moved out. His sisters were well focused on school as well as new clothing styles and handbags, and there was no denying that his mum's new boyfriend had put them on a pretty well track. Not that they were in trouble before. "Let's go out and have a smoke, yea? Heater should be on, so no freezing off of the arses tonight. I need mine, thank you."

"Oh?" Zayn laughed. "It's your twentieth, Lou. Getting lucky on Christmas eve?" 

"Not that I know of." Louis' mind quickly flashed to that of the brown curls and green eyes and porcelain pale skin, and he gave the living room a quick look around to see if maybe,  _maybe_  he could spot the boy. There were too many people to make anything out though, and he gave up within minutes. "Unless you like the idea of me going down on a fifty year old, no thanks." 

Zayn shuddered as they reached the patio in the back of the house. There were a few people standing around, huddled in blankets and shawls and animal skins and close to the fireplace or the heaters, all holding glasses of brandy or some form of alcohol to warm their bodies. He pulled his pack of smokes out as well as a lighter and passed one to Louis who obliged happily. Louis rarely smoked, only when he really felt a need for it. It wasn't as bad a craving as Zayn, but it wasn't something he publicly went on about. "So," the olive-skinned boy crooned as he let out a puff of air, "me and Li are, uh, official." 

It was weird to think that Zayn had found someone other than Louis to be with, and it was even weirder to think that he was in a  _relationship_. When Zayn first told Louis about Liam and how much he thought he may or may not be in love with the brunet, Louis had been hurt. He was so used to partners in crime and telling secrets under the bedsheets and the experimental kisses to see if maybe they were still interested in each other  _that way_ , but he was happy for Zayn. Truly happy. And when Zayn called him up at two am on a Sunday night to freak out over having kissed Liam, well. He'd been more than a helpful ear to his best friend. "That's fucking great, Zayn. Holy shit. What happened?"

"Well, uh. You know how he was mostly freaking out about telling his parents and stuff?" Louis nodded, breathing in the cold air and smoke and crumpling the cigarette under his canvas shoes. "Well, he told them this morning. And uh. He called me up and said that I, like, have his parents blessing and shit. They really want to meet me, Lou." The thing was, Zayn and Liam had technically been going steady for about three months now. Despite knowing each other for over a year, the relationship was only so young. The only thing that had been standing in the way of them actually being in a  _relationship_  relationship was the fact that Liam wasn't sure if his parents would approve of his, well, choice. Zayn and Louis had been so lucky to have had understanding parents, so much so that they never considered parents who would actually turn their child away for being romantically interested in the same gender. 

"That's fucking fantastic, Zayn. Damn. I'm so happy for you. Wow, talk about a Christmas miracle, yea?" They laughed loud, ignoring the blatant stares of the couples around them. "Shit, okay, now I'm freezing my balls off and I think it's almost time for dinner. Inside?" Zayn nodded, stubbing out his cigarette and taking Louis' hand as they made their way back into the house. He ignored the nagging feeling at the back of his head, the fact that he really really was happy for Zayn but he was still really jealous. He loved Zayn, he did, but now that Zayn had a real boyfriend and Louis was still single, it sort of sucked.

And it was his birthday, he deserved  _something_. 

-

Dinner was somewhat hectic, for lack of better words. There were several tables set up throughout the house that everyone had been juggling to get around, large long ones and small square ones and a few round ones that took up the spaces where most of the couches and coffee tables had been. There was even a table upstairs for the younger kids to be loud and raucous. When Louis and Zayn finally managed to grab a plate of food, they found themselves stuck between sitting opposite ends of each other at one table, or going to hide out in Louis' room until dessert. Which he knew would make his mum severely unhappy, but. 

They ended up managing to sit next to each other at one of the round tables in the living room, pouring themselves glasses of champagne and already too buzzed on the bubbly alcohol. After minutes of laughing at each other and finally diving into the delicious Christmas dinner, a hand pulled at the one empty chair next to Louis. "This seat taken, mate?" Louis nearly choked at the sound of the voice. It was deep and raspy, like sandpaper. Probably the hottest thing he'd heard all night, if he was being all too honest. The hand connected to the voice was paper thin and large, and the body connected to the hand was. Well. 

It was chocolate curls and green eyes boy. And boy had to have been an understatement, because this  _kid_  looked no more than a day over eighteen. And he was sort of mesmerizing, sort of cocky looking now that Louis was up close. He had this weird glint in his eyes, like he knew, he fucking knew  _something_ , and it bugged Louis. "Uh, yea. Sure." He pat the seat, still warmed up on the alcohol, and watched as this stranger slid into the metal lawn chair beside him. Louis' hand automatically found Zayn's underneath the tablecloth, held it momentarily as if to say  _help, help me_ , and Zayn squeezed it back apologetically before dropping into his lap. 

"'m Harry, by the way. Harry Styles," and Louis had to hold back a laugh because that name above everything else was the most ridiculous thing about this guy. "And, uh. You're Louis, right? Louis Tomlinson? Sorry, you're..."

"Zayn. Zayn Malik. Official best friend of sir Louis, here." He winked at Harry who didn't really let anything phase him, didn't let anything past him. Louis just sort of sat in silence. "Don't think I've ever seen you around, Harry! Accent's a bit off, too." 

"Oh, I'm from Cheshire. My mum works with Louis' though, so." And of course she does, how did he not know that? "So we're up here for the holidays, visiting and stuff. I go to uni in London though. Only a first year."  _Christ_ , Louis couldn't think straight. A first year? This kid was only eighteen or so if even. Eighteen and he looked, well. Delicious.

That was the alcohol talking. 

They ate and they talked, Harry asking about Louis' life in London and why Zayn chose to move to Bradford, touched on Zayn's sisters and Louis' sisters and Harry talked briefly about his own family, his stepdad and his sister Gemma and his young life in uni and the fact that he really wanted to be a photographer or a singer. When they brought up Liam, though, Louis felt momentarily sick to his stomach. And it must have been obvious, because Harry continued to keep his eyes on Louis throughout the entire section of this conversation, watching him with a careful gaze each time Liam was brought up. 

At one point he sort of sat back in his chair and let Zayn and Harry speak over him before he ended up excusing himself to take a piss. He could hear their laughter above everything else, and he locked himself in the laundry room restroom before dropping onto the closed toilet seat lid. A nervous glance to his watch informed him that there was still a mere four hours until midnight, and according to his schedule that meant about an hour until dessert and coffee and more mindless talking and maybe even the filing out of some of these strangers in his house.

He sat with his back pressed against the porcelain, trying to fight the urge to throw up and quite honestly, he knew he was losing. Too much rich alcohol and food in his system was never a great combination, and Louis ran into this complication every single year. He fought it enough to wipe at his face with a cold damp cloth and make his way back to the table, grabbing his mobile and apologizing to a confused Harry and Zayn for not feeling well. In all truth, he wanted Zayn to come up with him, rub his back in small circles like he knew he could, fall asleep cuddled next to the boy. Not only was that now impossible with Zayn having a  _boyfriend_ , but he couldn't leave Harry alone. He didn't even fucking know Harry and the boy was ruining his birthday. 

"I should go check on him, Lou always drinks too much on his birthday. It's, uh. It's a weird situation." Zayn started to push himself out of the chair before Harry caught his wrist, a sparkle in his eyes. 

"Don't trouble yourself, I think I upset him earlier honestly. And my mum was saying something about how I should be friends with him, not really sure. I'll go check on him, see if he needs a glass of water or something. His room is...?" 

Zayn was sort of suspicious at the over-friendly act that Harry was pulling, but he was also grateful. "Go up the stairs, second door on the right. Should have a blue star on it." 

Harry chuckled to himself, pushing the chair in and nodding his head in approval at Zayn. Part of him felt weird because he'd only just met Louis, only just properly saw him instead of hearing all about him from his mum, but he felt like he'd known him for a while. And if he was being honest, he felt as though maybe the older boy hated him already. 

When he'd first locked eyes with earlier, there was no doubt in his mind that the gorgeous set of blue eyes that were staring at him belonged to anyone else. He remembered how his mother had so fondly described Louis as having perfectly golden skin and eyes that sort of popped. She said he'd been an absolute delight at tea the one day, perfect in every sort of sense. That's when Harry knew he was sort of, well, in love with the guy. Not in love. He just really wanted to meet him. And after fruitful begging, he managed to sneak himself an invitation to the Christmas party that Jay threw every single year, one that happened to coincide with Louis' birthday.

He knew Louis was turning twenty, knew Louis was a student at the same uni as he, knew only what he knew thanks to his mum and even then, even then he felt as though he'd known Louis for a lifetime. And once he'd seen the opportunity to sit next to him at dinner, who was he to throw something like that away? Although the dinner hadn't really gone the way he'd planned, he felt he could make up for it now by cornering the older boy and talking to him. Alone.

Passing the small throngs of people, he made his way up the stairs and found that sure enough, there was a door on the right hand side of the hallway with a blue star on it. He knocked once, twice, three times and patiently waited. When no answer came, he took a deep breath and opened the door himself. The room was extremel dark save for the strand of white Christmas lights that seemed to hang above a window curtain. He saw a distraught figure lying on the bed and laughed, closing the door quietly behind himself.

"Lou?" The sheets rustled in answer, and Harry took this as a sign to continue. "Hey, I. I'm sorry if I said anything downstairs earlier to make you uncomfortable. I was just, uh. I was just trying to make conversation?" He let the words flow easily, laughing silently at himself. "My mum told me I had to make friends with you and I figured it was going to be really fucking difficult, because I'd heard a lot of shit about you from some of the other guys at uni and, I. I wasn't sure what to think, honestly. So yeah. I'm sorry." He stood with his back against the door for what felt like forever, waiting and hoping that either Louis was asleep and didn't hear a word that he'd said, or waited for Louis to give him some sort of an answer. Honestly telling him to fuck off would be much better than what he was experiencing. 

He waited a few more breaths, listening to the hum of the dinner party outside the door, wondering if Louis had actually fallen asleep in the short amount of time that it had taken for him to go check on him, or if he was just keeping quiet and hoping Harry would leave. But finally, Harry saw Louis sit up in his bed and give out a shaky sigh. "I've been such a dick all night," he whispered. "I've been so shit to Zayn and it's so selfish and I feel like, I don't know, I get to act that way because it's my fucking birthday. But my mum had to go and have her stupid dinner party tonight and Zayn had to go and get a stupid boyfriend and you on top of everything have to show up with your green eyes and your stupid hair and. Fuck."

There was a minute of silence but it was spent collecting thoughts between the two of them. Louis wasn't really sure what he was doing anymore, didn't realize how much he'd let out and didn't even care. He could regret it in the morning. Harry was focusing on analyzing and overanalyzing every word of the sentence that was just spoken, trying to not delve into each word too seriously until he got to the whole 'you' part. 

"Shit, Louis. Of course you get to be selfish today. It's Christmas  _and_  it's your birthday, who the hell told you you couldn't get what you wanted?" Harry was taking dangerously slow steps towards Louis bed, eyes finally focusing on the body in front of him, carefully silhouetted thanks to the lights behind. "Fuck your mum, fuck Zayn, fuck me. Fuck any of those people downstairs. You should be celebrating the way  _you_  want, should be having things handed to you on a silver fucking platter."

"But don't you get it? I can't have what  _I_  want. It's not about me, tonight. It's about my mum and it's about Christmas and it's about family. And I feel like shit and no one cares and."

"What  _do_  you want, Louis?"

Harry felt weirdly personal now, sitting himself on the small dipped edge of Louis' mattress and watching the odd features of Louis' face animate with hurt, anger, upset, whatever sort of emotion he was feeling. He'd only met Louis two and a half hours ago, and here he was sat on his bed closing an odd gap between the two like he'd known him a lifetime. "I want to kiss you, honestly." 

Well, it wasn't the answer Harry was expecting, but he didn't really have any time to respond because Louis' hands were cupped on his jaw and pulling him forward, crashing their lips together in some sort of drunken stupor. He briefly remembered how much champagne Louis had been drinking throughout the night and let the thought tickle his brain for a moment, shaking it away only when Louis' tongue swiped across his bottom lip and teeth nipped at him. It was, without a doubt, the messiest kiss Harry had ever experienced. But he let his arms wrap around Louis' neck to pull him in closer, bodies toppling backwards onto the bed and Louis was on top of Harry, lying across him breathless and still freakishly gorgeous with the silhouette parade of lights.

They continued to kiss, Louis licking every corner of Harry's mouth and hands sort of fumbling around to pull off Harrys's jacket. He felt like shit when he realized he'd basically attacked Harry and didn't even know if the other boy would end up returning the kiss (which it was obvious now that Harry had no intention of pushing Louis away), but he was drunk and it was his birthday and he didn't really care. Harry managed to sit up to chuck off his jacket and Louis took the opportunity to sit into his lap, straddling legs around his waist and dipping himself against Harry's neck, biting at the skin below his jaw. Harry's hands gripped Louis' arse, squeezing gently and playfully as Louis sucked a pretty purple mark into the delicate pale skin. He felt oddly alive, making out with a stranger in his room. It reminded him of university, fucking down on glittered out boys in the bathrooms of clubs and getting sucked off to the beat of horribly mixed sex tapes in stuffy dorm rooms. 

Louis felt  _alive_. 

Harry, on the other hand, felt anxious and with the constant weight of Louis' hips rolling against his, sort of frustrated. He hadn't even meant for things to go this far, at least not after a simple conversation, but they had and he was just. Fucked. Not even physically, yet. Oh god, not yet. He wasn't even sure if he wanted  _that_. "Lou," he croaked, managing to break apart for a brief spot of air. "Lou I need, gotta get off." Louis whined which didn't really help Harry's current predicament, but after another snake-like roll of his hips, the older boy seemed to understand. 

"Oh" was all that came out of his mouth. "Oh, fuck." Louis was grinding against a stranger in his own  _bedroom_ , for fuck's sake. His own bedroom where his family was partying on the floor just below him, smiling and dancing and eating and acting merry. And Louis was in his childhood bedroom with a stranger giving an inappropriate lap dance and love bites and Harry's lips were so red and blistered from the kisses, it was really really distracting. "Sorry" he murmured against them, kissing Harry gently. "Sorry, sorry. Sorry. I. Sorry."

"Say sorry one more time and I swear to god, I'll clock you in the face." It came out as an unhappy groan, but Harry was really sick of Louis apologizing. "Little help?" was all he could say, and Louis shook his head. 

"I. Sorry. Can't." He kissed Harry once more, lingered more than he should have, and climbed out of the lad's lap. His steps were languid and his feet padded against the carpet, hands searching for the doorknob. "I'm so sorry, Harry. What was I thinking. Shit."

He left Harry alone on his bed, hard and frustrated and cursing his name as he shut the door. He slumped against the blue star, falling to the floor in a crumpled mess. He was glowing, if anything. He also felt stupid, felt irresponsible and eighteen again. Zayn was clambering up the stairs and saw Louis in the heap of mess, eyes going soft. "Boo, again?" 

Zayn always  _knew_ , and Louis hated that. 

**Author's Note:**

> feedback appreciated, thanks! :)


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